


An Unlikely Saviour - Part 1

by CumberRachel



Series: Recovery is like falling, only backwards [8]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Hurt Steve Rogers, M/M, POV Tony Stark, Panic Attacks, Pent Up Feelings, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 12:08:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3609564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CumberRachel/pseuds/CumberRachel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony can't handle the way things have become, the team hates him, he hates himself and no one has seen The Good Captain in about a month. (In which we finally see Tony's point of view!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unlikely Saviour - Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry it took a while, but hey: longest one yet so it's all okay. Thanks for reading, feedback is always appreciated. :)
> 
> (Any and all mistakes are my own)

The journey back to the tower had been a long one, even by Tony's standards. Over Steve's shoulder, Clint appeared, slowing to a stop about 30 feet away. He waited until he heard Steve's cries subside before holding up keys and jerking his head toward the street. Clint kept a weary eye on the two of them while Tony struggled to pull Steve to his feet.

"Come on Steve. Our ride's here." He said kindly, rubbing Steve's back as he gently pushed him forward, encouraging his lethargic steps. It was awful to see someone as strong as Steve like this, but then his recovery from the ice did seem too good to be true. It would take loosing his best friend since childhood - again - to crack the hard shell and expose the broken man inside.

* * *

 

Tony could understand this kind of agony to a certain extent, he lost Pepper about a month after the invasion of New York. She 'couldn't handle it, she needed to put the company first, would always love him and hoped they could remain friends as they had been before.' Tony hadn't even seen it coming, he'd been to focused on the clean up, a giant shark infestation (which would have been fine if they hadn't developed ways of breathing out of water) and about a thousand other things. But then, in retrospect, that probably was a sign in itself.

Not that any of that mattered when in an alcohol induced oblivion, spending no time outside of the workshop, aggravating JARVIS enough to give the good Captain the secondary access code. Said Captain turned up like a knight in shining red, white and blue at the beginning of week four to pull him out of his pit of despair and haul him into his giant shower, letting the cold water run over him and shock his system enough to make him clean up and go to bed.

He wasn't allowed the luxury of sleep however, as his knight returned with three pints of water and some aspirin. 'Drink two now and the third in the morning with two of these.' Steve had instructed. Pulling up a chair to watch as he did so, waiting until he was done drinking before asking: 'what happened?'

Steve, and the team, already knew, Tony could tell that much. Yet Steve still asked him, Tony guessed it was why he opened up and spilled his soul for Steve to sift through like a puzzle. And that's how it began; the tight friendship. Once they passed the initial hostility, the irrational hatred his father had generated so many years ago, they were able to get to know each other. Learning the small things: birthdays (not that Steve's was hard to remember, the patriotic fucker), favourite foods, past pets, how much Steve _loved_ reality TV in the 21st century. Tony realised that Steve was still really far behind. So he made it his personal mission to amend it, starting with music. It was easy to slot it in between his other projects; making new suits, developing gadgets and toys for Clint and Natasha, making Steve's suite simultaneously more protective and more snug (mainly for the benefit of others, Tony told himself), he even offered to design something for Thor but the thunder God boisterously declined but thanked him with a pat on the back forceful enough to dislocate a shoulder. ( _I cannot apologise more, Anthony. I forget my strength in comparison to Misguardians._ )

Tony started by making an 8 Gb iPod classic a 200 Gb storage capacity. He then put a large selection of songs and artists from each genre, putting them in playlists based on decades, with two others labeled: 'Tony's faves' and 'Recommended'.

The ipod became the first in manny gift Tony either chucked into Steve's lap or subtly hid underneath whichever pillow he occupied that night. The most complicated by far had been the StarkPhone. Steve looked in borrow at Tony's extended hand, almost as though he was handing over a dead baby. It took him about six hours to fully explain, until Clint caught wind of what was happening and complained that he still couldn't find the camera function. So the one-on-one tutorial became a full class of StarkTech lessons.

Everything in the tower had been running smoothly and with nary a hitch; any time they were called out the worked as a team efficiently and quickly to reduce damage. Movie nights and team bonding activities became a regular occurrence, they even went bowling once (that had been so much fun for the paparazzi.)

 

 

Then came the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D.

 

 

Steve and Natasha were called away and the didn't come back the same; Steve was in hospital and Natasha was off creating a new identity for three weeks.

* * *

 

So, four weeks and a lot of hunting later Tony was sat against the sealed elevator door of Steve's floor. He wasn't sure how he'd done it but the door would not open, and JARVIS could not give any indication of Steve's condition.

That had been the teams first cause for worry - when the most technologically stunted member of the team outsmarted the only fully functional artificial intelligence in existence. Naturally the team blamed Tony, even though this time it was technically his fault. The rule was:  

_Steve doesn't go back to his own floor alone, he may venture to others so long as he tells a fellow team member before hand, and no that does **not** include JARVIS._

Tony understood the reasons for the rule and, for the most part, followed it. That was until they finally made it back to the tower, Clint and Natasha leaving the two backseat passengers. The air in the car was thick and heavy, as though the 4x4 itself wanted to crumple into the ground in the same way Tony knew Steve did. Tony _liked_ to tell the team that he'd tried, that he initially told Steve 'no'. That wasn't exactly how it went though.

All it took was for Steve to look at him with soft, glassy eyes and a pouty lip nibbled at to the extent it bled and ask:

"Could I go to my floor? Alone...?"

For Tony to nod without any further consideration. He even escorted him there, giving him a tight hug and a chaste kiss to his jaw before waving the wounded soldier off.

* * *

 

Almost 2 weeks of no contact had been driving the team mad, it had even irked JARVIS. ( _"Sir, I can not gain any information, please try the elevator again."_ )

The team had also tried getting in from the outside, maybe shatter a window or two and fly in. Only problem with that was that Steve's floor didn't have any external windows the same way everyone else's did, only panels so it wasn't a random floor with no windows. Tony had designed it deliberately that way as he didn't think the 1940's Man would appreciate such a skyline, but _holy fuck_ was he regretting it now.

Tony gradually became more paranoid, Natasha threatening to castrate him slowly in his sleep didn't help that either. In fact, Clint and Sam had become very hostile towards Tony, not that he could blame them, Steve could be dead for all they knew and it would all be Tony's fault.

Steve could be dead...

 _Steve_ could be _dead_...!

_Steve could be dead!!!_

Tony clambered off his stool as the air rushed from his lungs, the hurricane force of panic and terror shook him to his core. He cowered under his workshop desk, knees drawn to his chest, knuckles bone white as he clutched his hair in an attempt to quell the tremors that ran the length of his body.

Steve could be dead, could have killed himself, and Tony gave him the ability to do so, he might as well have taken a blunt pen knife and dug out all of Steve's vital organs until the blonde stopped breathing.

What was it Sam had told him to do? Ah, that was it, _breath Tony: in for five and out for ten_. As if it was that simple, counting the seconds as your lungs were deprived of oxygen. Steve would have been able to help him, Steve would have held him close so he was forced to take deeper breaths, as his general calm helped chisel away the panic.

But Steve wasn't here.

Steve could be dead.

Absently, he heard JARVIS trying to get his attention, threatening to give other team members the access codes. Not that it would matter, none of them would come to his aid when they had more important things to worry about.

Like Steve.

The lack of air was gradually causing his brain to go cloudy, black dots dancing across his vision and making it hard to focus on Rhodey.

_Rhodey!_

"Tony? Tony focus on me. You need to come out from under here Tones." Rhodey turning up was like a miracle, the one man who wouldn't judge Tony, or blame him, for his actions. He was also one of the few people who had seen this side of Tony, the side that no one wanted anyone to see. Currently, Rhodey was crouched by the desk, maybe two or three metres away and more out in the open space, knowing exactly where to be, having done this with Tony before.

Unlike last time, where Tony slowly made his way out and gradually unfolded and let the cool floor draw out the anxiety, Tony more or less launched himself at the Colonel. One hand still tugged at his hair while the the other fisted Rhodey's t-shirt, he'd shocked Rhodey but the man was a Saint so didn't let go, he just tried to pry his hand away from his head.

"I killed Steve, I killed him Rhodey. He's dead because of me, cause I let him go to his floor alone, it's against the rules but I. Still. Did. It!" He spat, feeling Rhodey's strong arms wrap protectively around his shoulders, rocking forward and back slightly.

"Tony, your not thinking rationally, you need to calm down... Can you take some deep breaths?-" Tony took a deeper inhale as he could, following orders likes good little soldier. "-thats it, you're doing great, and again... There we go, it's getting easier now isn't it?" Tony nodded slowly against Rhodey's chest. "A few more like that and you'll be able to think properly, Steve will be fine, he knows how important he is and won't put that on the team. No, Tony come on, deep breathing, keep it up." Rhodey pulled back a little so he could stroke the hair from Tony's clammy forehead.

"You can do this, I know you can." He insisted, giving Tony the strength he needed to pull himself together. As if Rhodey's words were like a rope being tightened around the shattered pieces of his mind and holding him in one place, grounding him. Slowly, Tony pulled out of Rhodey's arms, bringing his hands to his face and rubbing his tired eyes.

"Perhaps 72 hours 30 was pushing it, sir?" JARVIS' reprimanding voice echoes through the workshop. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see the disapproving look Rhodey wore so often around Tony and he elected to ignore it, choosing instead to glare at the ceiling.

"Did I program you to comment on my sleeping habits? And don't say I did, I programmed you to _monitor_ them, not dob me in to Rhodey." He snarked, using the stool to pull himself to his feet with a wobble. Rhodey was quick to follow, one hand on Tony's back to steady him.

"He's right though Tony, you need sleep. Do I have to sedate you again?" He asked, only semi-joking. Tony quickly shook his head, holding his hands up in a surrender and he plodded toward the lift, Colonel James Rhodes on his heels.

* * *

 

"Steve..." Tony was sat against the closed elevator doors, his head on his drawn up knees. He couldn't take this much longer, he'd been talking to himself for about an hour on and off. Switching between frantic, angry and shattered, not knowing what to do anymore.

"I don't know how you managed to lock this door. Or, more importantly, how a 1940's man like yourself managed to block all of JARVIS' communications... He's and AI, I can't even do that. And I don't want him monitoring me half the time. I mean I don't know what I'd do without him, he's kept me on the relatively straight and narrow for a long time. My best invention, even the iron man suit doesn't top it.... This is ridiculous..." Tony sighed heavily, looking at himself in the mirrored wall. His eyes were bloodshot and the two different shades of grey lining the sockets made them look sunken into his skull. His lips were chapped and nibbled raw, drawn into a thin line. His head hurt, his face hurt, his stomach hurt, everything had some level of pain, 12 hours sleep had very little effect other than an energy boost.

"I don't know if your listening, or if you care, or if your even alive..." He took a few shuddering breaths, biting one knuckle. "Nope, not going there again, your fine, everything is okay.... Steve, come on, give me some sort of sign. Anything, I don't care what. A note through the cracks? A text? Loud, heavy base, angry music? Just a hint of life, Steve?" Tony pleaded, feeling his willingness to stay there dissipate. He needed Rhodey there, the voice of reason, Tony's rationality, someone to assure him it would be okay even when he wasn't sure it would be. Rhodey was good like that, ever since they met in MIT.... Always there to pick Tony up off his ass, pry his door out of his mouth, saving him from _God awful_ hangovers. He was a hero long before he became 'War Machine', at least he was to Tony.

A metallic knock shocked Tony out of his thoughts, making him leap 3 feet high into the air and fall on his knees facing the door, eyes wide in shock, a shaky hand pointing in the general direction. After five minutes of listening to his own racing heartbeat, Tony realised he must have been hearing things he wanted to hear...

Only then it happened again.

_Knock knock_

It was real! Steve was alive! And communicating with him! With Tony. When he hadn't with anyone else. Tony laughed joyously, a hysterical giggle two octaves too high.

"Do it again..." He ordered, as though he's just been shown something wonderous and fascinating and amazing.

_Knock knock_

_Yes,_ that's real, definitely real... Steve was alive! Tony hadn't killed him, he was okay!

Now his mind was working double time trying to figure out a way to get him out and communicate more efficiently.

"Uh... _Christ!_ Okay, Steve? Knock once for yes, twice for no, get it?" He asked in a hurry, some words blending into one another. _Knock_ = yes.

Tony clambered to his feet, pressing both hands against the cool metal, focusing the soft fuzzy reflection of his arc reactor. "Steve, are you able to open this door?" He sort of shouted, waiting patiently for a response.

_Knock knock_

"How the hell did you manage that? Did you weld them together or something? These types of doors aren't easy to replace either, it's not as if it had been long since I put them in either, I don't know why I did your floor differently to everyone else's, I mean really? I have the money but if I'm gonna spend it then it's gonna be on something big, not new doors. I think I might make the new ones glass so we can see in. Not that you'll be on your floor, I should never have left you alone... Or maybe just one set of doors, so you see a dark, dirty elevator shaft. Saves us this trouble anyway. Oh, and while we're on the subject - JARVIS! What the fuck did you do to him? He isn't happy, I wouldn't expect and favours from him any time so-" Tony's nervous ranting was cut off by four loud bangs, not so much knocks this time, more like the door was being slapped or kicked. He stopped, realising his error.

"Right, yes... Sorry. Yes or no questions. I don't care about your opinion but I'm gonna ask anyway: I'm gonna fetch a laser component and an old repulsor, you'll wanna stand far away and to the side, it might get messy...that okay?" His tone didn't leave much room for comment but Tony heard two knocks nonetheless. Ignoring them completely, Tony pressed the button for his workshop, hoping no one would be waiting for him.

* * *

"Stark!"  

 _Shit_. "Natasha." Tony responded coolly, having been on the wrong side of almost everyone but Bruce since he left Steve alone. He brushed past her, bumping into her shoulder and frowning at her.

"That was uncalled for." He muttered, pressing his thumb into the recognition pad, opening the secondary glass door (designed so he could see who was approaching) and sauntering into his favourite floor in the building. "J, where are my spare repulsors?" He asks, finding the newest suit he had and detaching below the elbow, glad he'd decided to introduce a 'clip on, clip off' system.

"There are three in the spare parts box, sir." JARVIS informed as the same time as Natasha mouthed 'repulsors' with nothing more than vague confusion in her eyes.

Tony slipped the gauntlet on his arm, flexing his fingers and pressing buttons as he strode over to his 'spare crap' box (at least that's what it said on the side). Digging through until he was almost half inside the box itself. Rising with a triumphant 'ah ha!' when he found what he was looking for.

"Could you not have just used the one on your hand?" Natasha piped up glancing down at his arm, Tony's actions piquing her interest.

Tony shook his head, pulling the door shut behind him. "This suit doesn't have one, it's got better laser and small explosive systems. It's not a battle suit, more of a rescue suit, which I guess is what this is. Im assuming JARVIS filled you in..." He clarified, noting her single nod and tense posture.

"Im coming with you." She declared. Tony simply shook his head, stepping into the waiting elevator and pressing the button for the communal floor.

"No your not, this is my fault, I'm going to be the one to fix it. You've all been on my case for God knows how long, I'm not about to let you claim the limelight." He argued, waiting calmly for the elevator doors to open before pushing The Widow out, it wasn't difficult as she was quite small and not expecting him to react in such a way. He grinned and waved a metal clad hand as the doors closed, preventing Tony from hearing her various, creative insults.

* * *

 

"Okay spangles, I'm back, make sure you're a good ten feet away." He warned, standing as far back as he could and raising his arm, aiming about 20cm down from the top, a quarter of the way in. He fired, using the laser to cut the metal in a large rectangle, it taking a few minutes to get all the way round. As expected, the metal did not fall away from the surrounding door, which was why he had the repulsor. Angling his body to the other side before aiming and firing dead centre. The smell of burning metal was fresh in his nostrils and he tentatively stepped forward, not sure of what to expect once inside.

"Steve?" He called, stepping over the ledge and out of the small cloud. He didn't know what he expected to see but the sheer level of destruction and visible strength hadn't been it. The worst thing for him to see was the cowering wreck that was Steve Rogers, curled up on the corner of his sofa, surrounded in a blanket of sketches, some brilliant, some blackened and crumpled, some displaying horrors Tony could only ever read about. The walls had fist sized holes in them with shredded wires poking out, _so that was how he disabled JARVIS_. The floor was covered in shards of glass and china, some had patches of blood on them and Tony was willing to bet that his skin had healed around missing fragments. The smaller sofa had been upturned, stuffing spilling out of splits here and there. Broken pencils littered across almost every surface, snapped in twos and fours.

Those would be the first thing Tony replaced.

Finally Tony's eyes completed his survey of the room and fell back to Steve. The man himself was hardly visible, he hadn't been eating or sleeping and his skin had a grey tint that made him look ghostly. His cheeks held less, but also more, definition. From what he could see, Tony was willing to bet Steve had lost a lot of muscle. His eyes were the worst, hollow. Yet full of anguish and shame and fear.

It was all Tony could do to close his gaping jaw and choke out a pained ' _Steve_ ' before his knees buckled and he crumpled to the ground.

 

 


End file.
